“Which colleges did you apply to in California, Peyton?” I ask.
“Pepperdine, USC, UCLA, and Stanford, but I’m leaning toward Pepperdine,” she says with a big smile. “It’s right across from the beach. How awesome would that be?”
“It sounds amazing. They’re all good schools.”
“Stanford is pretty good,” Whitney says. “But it’s the only one I would consider. I’m setting my sights a little higher. Shark already got accepted to Yale. That’s where I’m planning to go as well. Just waiting to hear from them. Then I’ll make my big announcement.”
“What big announcement?”
“Of where I’m going to college,” she says in a tone that is supposed to make me feel stupid for asking.
“How will you announce it?”
She gives me a wide smile. “Well, most people just tell their friends. I was thinking of something a little more grand. Like at Winter Formal.”
“Cool,” Peyton says. “I’m sure the school is on pins and needles waiting to hear your choice.”
“I know I am,” I say quickly, hoping to distract from Peyton’s snotty comment. “How cool to announce it at Winter Formal.”
Peyton rolls her eyes at me while Whitney favors me with a wide smile. “Thank you. I thought it would be very cool, too. And Shark is dying for me to reveal my choice, so it will be fun for him.”
“That’s a really cute way to tell him,” I say.
Most romantic city.
11:40am
When we get back to school, we find that most of the students are out of class, helping their various clubs or dorms.
I’m not really sure if Whitney is trustworthy, but she has been really nice to me, and all of us being friends seems to make Peyton happy, even though I’m not totally convinced that she wants to be friends with Whitney anyway.
And, since it’s my fault she can’t tell anyone about Damian, I figure it’s the least I can do.
Whitney has a long list of things we actually do have to check on for the weekend.
“Top of the Eiffel Tower, Sunset is going to be even better than Greek weekend!” she exclaims as we tour the campus.
“Let’s go check on the awnings,” Peyton says.
We walk to the front of the social center and watch as an alumni-owned rental company adds pink and black striped awnings to the outside of the building and sets up black iron bistro tables and chairs. They’ve even brought in portable heaters to make sitting outside more comfortable.
“Wow!” I exclaim. “It looks so good! Everyone will love it!”
“You fit right in, too. I love your outfit,” Whitney compliments me.
I love my outfit today, too. In honor of French weekend, I have on Louboutin black fringed ankle boots and am carrying their black spiked tote bag. I’m wearing an Alice + Olivia black leather box pleat skirt, pale gray knee-high socks with kitten faces on them, and a white fleece pullover with Magnifique! scrawled across the front.
“Thanks, Whitney. It’s too bad we couldn’t import some French shopping. Chanel. Dior. Lacroix. Gaultier, Louboutin, Chloe, Laurent. All lined up in a row.”
“That would be amazing. Maybe instead of going to the beach and partying with boring frat boys, the three of us should go to Paris for Spring Break and do nothing but eat croissants, drink café crème, and shop the boutiques and Parisian flea markets,” Whitney suggests.
“Oh, that would be fun!” Peyton gushes. “Paris is the most romantic city.”
“Yeah, maybe you could meet someone there,” Whitney says, getting in a little dig.
Peyton looks at Whitney with puppy dog eyes, but as soon as she turns away she gives me a little wink. She and Damian have talked every single night. He told her that they needed to keep their relationship under wraps for the time being. And, honestly, I probably shouldn’t feel too bad because I think the secrecy of it is just adding to her excitement.
The bell rings, signaling the end of fourth period and the beginning of lunch.
“Perfect timing,” Whitney says. “We’ll check out the café and then get everyone to sit at my table.”
We wander into the café.
It’s already been mostly transformed into a riverboat with porthole windows showing colorful scenes of the French countryside and Parisian landmarks.
“The drama and art clubs outdid themselves,” she says, checking them off the list.
“And you can smell the croissants baking,” I add, breathing in the wonderful aroma.
Peyton, Whitney, and I sit at the table, stopping all our friends and inviting them to sit with us. I never realized it before, but they didn’t even fill up a whole table. Now it’s crowed and noisy.
And fun.
Particularly when Aiden squeezes next to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“How’s the project? I didn’t see anything when we walked by your dorm.”
“It’s not quite finished yet.”
He puts his hand on my thigh as he whispers, “When it’s done, you’ll be the first to see it.”
“When will that be?”
“Tomorrow night.”
Logan says to Whitney, “We should start the announcements.”
They stand in front of the café and Logan clears his throat. “Hey everyone. If I can have your attention . . .” When the room quiets, he continues. “The Social Committee wants to give you a little update on the events for French weekend. The dorms will, once again, be competing for a dress-down day. Entries will be voted for on Sunday. Tonight’s café dinner will be steak frites and, afterward, everyone is encouraged to attend the basketball home opener. The coffee shops will be open late, serving pastries and drinks, and curfew will be extended to twelve-thirty.”
He hands Whitney the microphone. “Since we’re hosting a wrestling match on Saturday, be sure to go support our team,” she says. “The café will be open all day on Saturday, serving French grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, or croques monsieur, French pastries, and chocolate soufflés, as well as holding hourly French cooking classes. Then, Saturday night, everyone will get dressed up for the Seine River Dinner Cruise. Who knows what will happen on the river?!”
Logan finishes up. “Sunday afternoon, you can get involved in some games of boules and see a French film at two. Hope you enjoy all the activities we have planned! And a big thank you to all the clubs involved in making this weekend a reality.”
After they finish, Aiden whispers, “I need to get back to the shop. Are you going to French?”
“Probably not. I should go back to the dorm and help finish up the windows. Are you coming to dinner?”
He shakes his head. “No. I have to be in the locker room at six and there’s no way I could eat a heavy meal like that before the game.”
“I’ll miss you,” I say.
He grabs my hand and gazes into my eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”
“Will I see you before the game?”
“You gonna wish me luck? Offer up some dances?”
“I don’t know. How many points do you usually score?”
“Last year I didn’t start and I averaged eleven.”
“So, how many will you score this year?”
“Not sure. Twenty, thirty, maybe. Hopefully. It might depend on how motivated I am.”
“One of the dancers said that she gives her boyfriend a—” I whisper the word in Aiden’s ear. “For every dunk he makes.”
Aiden’s fingers graze the skin just under my skirt, giving my goose bumps.
I swallow, wishing his fingers would move higher and give me something else.
“Are you offering me that?”
“Can you even dunk?”
“You doubt my skills?” he says with a laugh.
“I probably shouldn’t. I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.”
“I can dunk. Never have in a game, though. I don’t want sexual favors for my game performance, but if I dunk, what if I get something I want?”
“Uh, what do you want?” I ask, my mind going all kinds of sexy places.
He stands up, pulling me up with him and leading me out of the cafeteria.
Once we’re away from everyone else, he backs me up against the wall, his chest pressing into mine, his knuckles pushing my chin up toward his mouth. “I want a night alone with you in my room. No parties. No hanging out. Just you and me dancing before curfew, then you sneaking over to my room after curfew and spending the night. Sleeping with me.”
I’m not sure what his definition of sleeping with him is, but I’m totally game.
“I’d do that even without a dunk,” I say, pressing my lips to his.
He grins. “I know. Maybe I just want to impress you.”
When he goes to the shop, I go to my dorm and order a huge candy gift basket and a whole bunch of chaos glow-in-the-dark temporary tattoos to send to the dancers at The Side Door with my thanks for letting me dance with them.